A WINTER PIECE.

T was a winter's evening, and fast came down the fnow,

IT

And keenly o'er the wide heath the bitter blast did blow When a damfel all forlorn, quite bewilder'd in her way, Prefs'd her baby to her bofom, and fadly thus did fay:

Oh! cruel was my father, that fhut his door on me, And cruel was my mother, that such a fight could see ; And cruel is the wint'ry wind, that chills my heart with cold, But crueller than all, the lad that left my love for gold!

Hufh, hufh, my lovely baby, and warm thee in
my breast;
Ah, little thinks thy father how fadly we're diftreft!
For, cruel as he is, did he know but how we fare,
He'd shield us in his arms from this bitter piercing air.
Cold, cold, my dearefl jewel! thy little life is gone :
Oh let my tears revive thee, fo warm that trickle down ;
My tears that gufh fo warm, oh they freeze before they fall
Ah wretched, wretched mother! thou'rt now bereft of all.'

Then down the funk despairing upou the drifted fnow;
And, wrung with killing anguifh, lamented loud her woe:
She kifs'd her baby's pale lips, and laid it by her fide;
Then call her eyes to heaven, then bow'd her head, and dy'd
SELF..

SELF-LOVE

By Dr. YOUNG.

HO venerate themselves, the world despise.

WH

For what, gay friend! is this efcutcheon'd world, Which hangs out death in one eternal night?

A night that glooms us in the noon-tide ray.
And wraps our thought, at banquets, in the fhroud.
Life's little ftage is a final! eminence,

Inch-high the grave above; that home of man,
Where dwells the multitude: we gaze around;
We read their monuments; we figh; and while
We figh we fink, and are what we deplor'd;
Lamenting, or lamented, all our lot!

Is death at diftance? No: he has been on thee;
And giv'n fure earnell of his final blow.
Those hours that lately fimil'd, where are they now?
Pallid to thought, and ghaflly! drown'd, all drown'd
In that great deep which nothing difembogues!
And, dying, they bequeath'd thee final renown.
The reft are on the wing: How fleet their flight!
Already has the fatal train took fire;

A moment, and the world's blown up to thee;

The fun is darknefs, and the ftars are duft.

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